


Hate Fucking

by Yeahyouwish



Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics)
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 08:45:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16446602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeahyouwish/pseuds/Yeahyouwish
Summary: Hate fucking for kinktober, Hostage for Sladin Week. As Richard, Nightwing can fuck Slade. As Nightwing, that would be a lot harder, but just as messy.





	Hate Fucking

**Author's Note:**

> Slade refers to Dick as a child here but he happens to be like 20 in this story. Not that Slade would care.

Slade had never been more delighted than this. 

He had been told to create a hostage situation as a distraction for a bank heist two blocks down, and since the pay was good, though it wasn’t his usual work, he had taken the job. He usually worked in assassinations, but this had turned out to be the perfect opportunity for some stress relief. 

Richard Grayson. Former ward of the famous playboy Bruce Wayne. Yes of course he was creating something of a scene. As soon as the situation turned sour, he was telling Slade to let the other hostages go as a sign of good faith. He would be enough. 

Interested to see how that would go, Slade decided for it. “Call Bruce Wayne,” He told the hostage negotiator on the other end of the line, “He’s going to want to see this.” 

And now it was even more interesting. 

Richard was cute, what could Slade say? And he hadn’t really been doing much. He’d only been pinning the boy against a wall. 

And then he’d started kissing him. Not Slade. Richard. 

He’d lifted his mask just so and started making out with him hard and heavy right there. Oh, he was going to regret that. Slade kissed him back, naturally. The mask wasn’t off, after all, and if Richard wanted to court danger, he could. Slade would allow it. 

Then he’d come up with another proposition. They were both hard in their pants by now, and Richard had figured out a good way to pass the time. “Let me fuck you. Let me fuck you and I’ll get you whatever it is that you want. I’ll talk with Bruce. He’ll make sure you have it.” Oh this boy knew how to play. 

“Let you fuck me…On one condition. I’m holding his gun to your head, Mr. Grayson.” 

“Fine by me. I’m used to it.” 

The phone rang. “This had better be Bruce Wayne.” 

“It is. Let me speak to Dick.” 

“Very well, feel free.” He gave the phone to Richard. 

Richard took it. “Bruce, help me, please! He’s torturing me!” He gave the phone back to Slade, smiling. Slade took it, returning the grin. He pushed Richard against the wall again to make a sound. 

“Happy now, Mr. Wayne?” 

“Let him go. I’ll get you anything you want.” 

“Naturally you will. A helicopter, to the top of the building. Then have the pilot use the emergency exit. Have it in thirty minutes and you can avoid further harm to this… brilliant young child.” 

He hung up. “Two things. One, child? Two, thiry minutes?” 

“Take your time if you wish.” 

“I was gonna go rough anyway.” 

“People don’t give you enough credit.” Slade replied, stripping. He picked up his gun and laid on the floor. “I don’t usually bottom, but you intrigue me.” 

“It’ll stay that way.” 

Richard lifted Slade’s legs and undid his own pants. “You’re lucky I carry lotion.” Richard said. Slade let him reach into his bag and pull it out, lube himself. “Otherwise this would hurt even more.” 

“Yes, you’re a dandy and you’re about to fuck a mercenary. I understand the situation.”   
“Shut up.” 

Dick forced himself inside little by little. To Slade’s credit, he made no reaction beyond gritting his teeth against the pain. But it wasn’t until he was fucking Slade that Slade got a real taste of the anger inside that boy. 

He was driving in with all his might, moaning like a whore with each thrust, his eyes flickering shut each time. He was acting like he was in heat, and Slade could barely take it when he hit his prostrate. Each time was like a stallion that couldn’t contain it’s joy at having something to fuck. 

Slade grunted routinely at the pain and pleasure, mingling together. He couldn’t help but love this style, though. Sure, it hurt, but there was a beauty to Richard’s anger and frustration. It tore at him, and he tore at Slade. 

At this pace it wasn't’ long before Richard was cumming, his seamen mixing with the blood he had produced from Slade’s sore ass. It wasn’t until he’d finished that he realized Slade hadn’t held to his word about the gun. It didn’t matter, though. He kissed Slade again and pulled out. 

“Fuck.” Slade moaned. “You really need to get out more, kid.” 

“Pfft. Don’t be sour now. You did agree.” 

“Oh, I’m not sour.” Slade dressed quickly, hearing his chopper on the way. “This has been fun.” 

“How did your distraction go?” 

“Not as planned, if you can figure it out. But I did as I was told, and more.” 

“Don’t forget me, Slade.” 

“OH, I won’t.” Slade said. He listened at the stairway and heard the pilot descending. As he was passing, Slade asked, “I’d like to know what exactly you got out of this…” 

“You ask that with my cum in your ass?” 

“Indeed I’m going to have to change, but what was your real goal?” 

“That’s for me to know, and you to wonder. Forever.” 

“Hmmm.” Slade opened the doors and climbed the stairs to his escape. 

And if he met Batman and Nightwing in the sky, that was just coincidence.


End file.
